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I used to be really fucking fat. All my life until I was 28, with the brief exception of a few months in HS when I JUST BARELY made it to the normal BMI range, for like, a day. I’ve never been completely out of shape, I took public transit until the spring of 2009 for recreation and work and walked quite a bit. The problem was that I ate like a pig.

On January 1 2008 my friend Elaine and I made a bet. A diet bet. I don’t remember the terms because we never actually followed up on it, but I weight 255 pounds that day. Holy Crap! Over the next few weeks I dropped down to around 243 by eating less junk, and there I stayed, until June.

In June of 2008 I was particularly busy (i.e. not home eating) and a good friend at worked asked if I’d lost weight. I hadn’t checked in a while, and sure enough, I was down to 238. And for some reason, I was able to lose the weight this time. I got serious. I used the treadmill I bought shortly after graduating from college 6 years earlier, moved away from home later that year, and joined a gym (because my new basement was too cold in the winter for the treadmill). I now go to the gym fairly regularly for aerobics classes. I still hate the treadmill.